On the metro, me and you. Two eggs in a traincar carton. I read my book, you watch your video. You lean over, still watching. I lean over, still reading. We meet halfway, and connect with a temple kiss.
Here we are Just intelligent primates Packed on a high-speed moving train Like a carton of eggs. ◊
Let's stare at the screens that highlight out faces And take away our lives one click at a time. ◊
I met him in a Rite Aid parking lot in Durango, Colorado. He was wearing a purple shirt with the small insignia of “Kansas State” in the middle of the chest right below the buttons. He had a round, white wrinkled face and a balding blonde head. He hunted bullfrogs for fun. His name was … Continue reading Kenny
The Flying Busman keeps his poems on the small elevated landing at the front of the bus. Two of them are folded into paper airplanes. A woman sitting next to me engages him in conversation. Something about a writing group that meets at a Wegman's in Camillus every Thursday night. She's holding a big box. … Continue reading The Flying Busman